Chapter 702 Blood, Fireworks, and Trash

Carl curled his lip. “You think freezing the situation keeps things stable? Yunice isn’t someone who compromises.”

As he spoke, he handed Wyatt a glue brush. “Feelings are the one thing in this world you can’t force.”

Wyatt’s brows pulled together. He stared at the brush but didn’t take it. Instead, he pressed the couplet into the doorway’s decorative frame with the heel of his hand, locking it in place without needing the glue.

He was going to force it anyway.

In the past, he’d had no right and no opportunity. But now someone expected him to back off with grace? That wasn’t going to happen.

That night, the family had no tradition of staying up for the New Year. Just as everyone was getting ready for bed, Wyatt’s phone rang. Across the room, Yunice was brushing out her hair. Their eyes met. She could tell something was wrong.

“What happened?”

“Owen tried to kill himself in prison. They managed to save him.”

Yunice’s expression darkened. She got out of bed, irritated. “Of course. Can’t even get through New Year’s without something blowing up.”

Wyatt knew she wasn’t just angry–she was worried too.

“Carl’s getting older. Let’s not let this reach him.”

Yunice pulled on her coat. She and Wyatt left quietly under the cover of night, careful not to wake anyone. Owen had watched the midnight fireworks from his cell, then bit open the artery in his wrist. Blood had poured everywhere. A patrolling guard discovered him just in time and got him to the infirmary.

When Owen woke, he saw Yunice and Wyatt standing over his bed, watching him in silence.

His eyes welled with tears almost instantly. “Yunice… I wasn’t trying to cause trouble. I just… couldn’t hold on anymore.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed, as if he were swallowing back a mouthful of grief.

Yunice understood exactly what had pushed him over the edge. New Year’s was a time for reunion, a time for family. Owen had never known what it meant to be alone. He had always been surrounded by people—first their father, then Oscar, then her. Later, Lily and Elsie. He had always been the center of attention—spoiled, admired, adored.

But this year, he had no one. Locked away, forgotten. No visitors. No voices. The dumplings in prison had no warmth, no meaning. Eating them only reminded him of everything he had lost. The pain was unbearable, and when he couldn’t stand it anymore, he turned the pain inward.

Yunice looked down at him, her expression unreadable. “If it’s just pain, you can survive it. I did. Look at me—I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

Owen froze. He stared at her, eyes wide, the words hitting him like a punch to the chest.

She had gone through it too.

She understood the loneliness, the hopelessness, the ache that twisted inside. She had walked that same road—and it was a road he had put her on.

She hadn’t cried.

So what gave him the right?

The realization sank deep and fast. Owen’s face went pale. Blood gushed from his lips as his body buckled.

Yunice stepped back without a word, told the nurse to take care of him, and left the room without turning around.

“Don’t report his condition to me again. He’s not a Saunders.”

Lily had tried more than once to apply for a visitation with Yunice, but she had never granted it. Not once.

Peggy eventually regained consciousness in the hospital, but her mind had deteriorated. Her parents took her home quietly. That whole greedy, self-serving family vanished without even trying to demand compensation. They didn’t dare.

Before the New Year officially arrived, the Saunders estate had already been fully restored. Every room was just as it had been when Yunice was a child. She stood in her old bedroom with Gill, pointing at the jewelry box Owen had once made with his own hands.

“Throw it out.”

Trash belonged in the trash.

Gill took the cart herself. “Let me handle it. I don’t trust anyone else to throw it far enough. What if they toss it too close and you see it again?”

She didn’t toss it at all. She wheeled the cart out of the estate, got into her car, and told her driver, “Take me to the psych hospital. I’m going to visit an old friend.”

Elsie was brought to her.

She looked worse than ever—emaciated, sunken-eyed, barely hanging on. But the moment she saw Gill, her face contorted, baring her teeth like a rabid dog.

Gill had hit a nerve.

The maid she used to abuse and insult at the Saunders estate now sat across from her, drenched in luxury, polished, respected.

Gill raised an eyebrow. “Bet you never thought someone like me could end up on top, huh? I’m the owner of Cloud Consumers now. Over a hundred distribution outlets, and more on the way. I actually thought about hiring you as a maid, but honestly, you stink too much. This place suits you better.”